


Homing Device

by makeit_takeit



Series: All Caps [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, Healing Sex, M/M, Podfic Available, Rare Pairings, Rare Relationships, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Sex As Character Study, Sex Toys, Sexual Experimentation, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeit_takeit/pseuds/makeit_takeit
Summary: Tom’s grinning, obviously pleased as he surveys his domain. With the sun shining on his clean-shaven face, with his backward hat and his broad white smile, with the already sun-brown skin of his arms and the way his tank pulls tight across his pecs, the casual way his shorts hang so low across his hips, he looks like.Like something Nic still feels, somewhere way down in his scared adolescent hind-brain, like he should know better than to look at, much less want. Like he’s asking for trouble, somehow, just imagining some guy like Tom Wilson might want him back.The rational part of his brain reminds him, Tom does want him, though. Or at least he did a month ago.Because it’s only been a month - thirty-four days, to be precise- since the Caps lost their last playoff game, and Tom Wilson said Nic was the best thing about his season.





	Homing Device

**Author's Note:**

> So. Nic Dowd had a birthday and I had a bunch of feelings (and a lot of enabling), and now this is a thing.
> 
> Do all Canadian hockey players have lake houses in Canada? It’s my understanding that they do, yes.
> 
> Does Tom Wilson have a lake house? I have no proof but he is in fact a Canadian hockey player so I can only assume/pretend yes.
> 
> Does he want to invite Nic Dowd there to impress/romance him even though they are both idiots? Again, according to me, yes.
> 
> This is for all of you who read No Contest and asked for more, and especially for my enabler-in-chief **_ambruises_** , who refused to let this pairing die. You all have her to thank.

 

“Dude, what the fuck,” is what Tom says when he opens the door.

Nic turns to look at the driveway behind him, confused. All that’s there is the nondescript silver rental sedan he drove up in.

“Huh?”

When he turns back, Tom’s holding up his phone.

“What the hell is this?”

On the screen is an Insta post from the Caps, wishing Nic a Happy 29th birthday.

“Oh. Right.” Nic can feel himself color; he tries to shrug it off with a little wave of his hand. “It’s my birthday.”

“You couldn’t have mentioned that before now, I guess?” Tom sounds annoyed, eyes narrowed and all suspicious, and he hasn’t even let Nic in the door yet. Nic’s first thought is that he’s kind of missed Tom’s pissy face in the last month.

He’s missed all of Tom in the last month, like every single thing about him, which is. Yeah.

He should at least _try_ to have a little more chill.

Probably.

It’s just, he’s not actually sure, like, what’s going to happen here. He’s playing it by ear, feeling his way, trying not to expect too much or to have any expectations at all, really.

He’s trying to be cool, is the thing, it’s just cool isn’t really his jam, so. Here he is, staring blankly at Tom while Tom glares.

“Uh. Sorry?” he tries, and Tom rolls his eyes.

“Come on, asshole,” He sighs, and stands back to swing the door open and let Nic by.

He snatches Nic’s bag off his shoulder as he passes, and shepherds him into a huge great room with giant windows, looking out over the water.

“So this is the house,” he waves broadly as he deposits Nic’s bag on the third step of the stairs leading up to the second floor. “Come check out the back, I’ve got dinner on the grill.”

Nic follows him out glass doors onto a wide deck. There’s a big dining table next to an even bigger grill, and what looks like a giant bed suspended in mid-air, hung from the huge wooden beam above by heavy nautical rope attached to all four corners. There are stairs down to a yard with a big firepit surrounded by chairs. Leading from that is a sandy trail down to a long dock that extends out into the lake, with a fishing boat bobbing in the covered slip at its end.

Tom’s grinning, obviously pleased as he surveys his domain. With the sun shining on his clean-shaven face, with his backward hat and his broad white smile, with the already sun-brown skin of is arms and the way his tank pulls tight across his pecs, the casual way his shorts hang so low across his hips, he looks like.

Like something Nic still feels, somewhere way down in his scared adolescent hind-brain, like he should know better than to look at, much less want. Like he’s asking for trouble, somehow, just imagining some guy like Tom Wilson might want him back.

The rational part of his brain reminds him, Tom _does_ want him, though. Or at least he did a month ago.

Because it’s only been a month - thirty-four days, to be precise- since the Caps lost their last playoff game, and Tom Wilson said Nic was the best thing about his season.

Thirty-three days since Nic was naked in Tom’s bathtub, watching as Tom shaved the last remnants of the playoff beard from his face before dropping the towel he’d had wrapped around his hips, and joining Nic in the tub.

Thirty-two days since they cleaned out their stalls, made nice with the media one last time, went out for a boozy, sullen last hurrah with their teammates, then went back to Tom’s and had drunk, sad, sloppy, almost desperate sex in Tom’s bed.

Thirty-one days since they said their bleary, hung-over goodbyes in Tom’s front hallway – just a chaste press of lips and an exhausted one-armed hug, and vague promise to talk soon – with no discussion about when or where or how they might see each other again.

In the ensuing thirty days Nic has been to Alabama to visit his family, to LA to visit his friends, and to Cabo to play golf and lay on the beach and try not to think about Tom Wilson more than he should.

Exactly how much thinking about Tom is _too much_ thinking about Tom, given the current state of things, is the part that’s a little unclear.

What Nic knows for sure at this point is that he’s way too jet lagged and has spent way too much time inside his own head recently to have any shot at gauging what an appropriate response might be to what he’s faced with now – which is Tom Wilson pointing the full force of that smile in Nic’s direction, shining in the sun like some kind of homing device that exerts a physical force on Nic’s person, trying to pull him closer.

He’s able to resist only by virtue of leaning against the deck railing and hanging on for dear life.

“Awesome place,” he manages to get out.

“Yeah, sweet set up, right?” Tom’s opening the grill lid, poking at the steaks sizzling away there. “Just bought it last summer, after the big contract and all that. Didn’t get a ton of time to enjoy it before the season started, so. Should be fun this summer, for sure.”

Nic watches him move around the grill, arms flexing and forehead starting to sweat in the heat the grill’s putting off. When Tom looks up, Nic jerks his gaze away and hopes to god he’s not fucking blushing.

“You like yours medium, eh?” Tom asks, and Nic looks out at the water before he nods.

“Yep. That’s perfect.”

 

+++

 

Tom serves him steak and baked potatoes and veggies off the grill, offers him beer or wine. Nic takes a beer, but mostly sips his water.

The sun goes down while they eat.

It’s not that it’s awkward, exactly. It’s not hard to keep the conversation going; it never is with Tom. They get along, is the thing, and they have a lot of friends and interests in common. And anyway, if all else fails, there’s always hockey.

They talk about the ‘Canes’ run, about the Blues’ run. Talk about that crazy fucking San Jose comeback, even though they texted about it on the night it happened. Talk about how much it sucks to have to watch it all on TV and not be a part of it, not like Nic would know from experience what being part of it is like, but still. He got enough of a taste this year, he can imagine.

He tries to help Tom clear the dishes, but Tom waves him off, says _hey, no, you’re my guest, right?_ , so while Tom carries everything inside, Nic goes back over to lean on the railing, look out at the water shining in the moonlight.

Tom comes back eventually, props himself up against the casing of the open patio door.

“You want to build a fire?” He’s grinning again, but it seems kind of forced, inclining his head slightly, indicating the fire pit. “Nice night for it.”

He doesn’t come any closer, and he hasn’t tried to touch Nic, not once, since Nic walked through the front door. Nic doesn’t give a shit about a fire, but he nods, shrugs as gamely as he can.

“Sure, that sounds good,” he says, in a voice that sounds pretty normal, he thinks.

He might think wrong, though, because Tom immediately drops the smile and raises an eyebrow.

“What the fuck is up with you?” he asks, straight to the point as always.

“Nothing’s up,” Nic shrugs again, tries to seem vague. “Just tired I guess.”

Tom glares at him from across the deck, and crosses his arms like he means business. Jesus Christ.

“You wanted to come here, right?”

“Um.” Nic says. “Yes?”

“That sounded convincing.” Tom snorts, and rolls his eyes.

“Sorry,” Nic swallows, and his throat feels tight. He has no idea what Tom wants from him, here, but whatever it is, he’s obviously not getting it.

“I guess I’m just a little. I don’t know - .” He’s not sure how to say he’s right back to being unsure about this, about _them_. What if Tom already wishes there’d never even _been_ a them? What if he’s snapped out of his _gay phase_ and is just going to treat Nic like any other teammate, like they’re just bros here to fish or whatever, until Nic gets the hint.

What if Nic’s never going to get to touch him again and is just gonna have to pretend to be fine with that?

“Well you’re being fucking shady as shit,” Tom says, and his pissy face is back, “not even telling me it’s your birthday and then standing way the fuck over here, and just - . If you’re like, breaking up with me or whatever, you didn’t have to come all the way up here to do it, okay? Just say whatever you have to say, if that’s what this is, and we can both get on with our fucking lives or whatever.”

“What?” Nic squeaks, and he knows his eyes are probably wide as saucers. “What do you – I mean. _Of course_ I’m not breaking -. What are you even - . _What?_ ”

Nic doesn’t know a lot, but he does know you have to be in a relationship with someone in order to break up.

Like, you’d have to be boyfriends, or whatever.

And on one hand, if Tom was Nic’s boyfriend, they probably would have made plans for the summer before they left DC, rather than leaving it to casual, strictly-platonic texting and FaceTiming three weeks after the fact.

If Tom was Nic’s boyfriend, they probably would have kissed or at least _hugged_ hello after not seeing each other for a month. They probably would have at least _touched_ each other at some point in the last two and a half hours.

If Tom was Nic’s boyfriend, he would probably _be aware that he had a boyfriend_ , right?

Then again, if Tom _isn’t_ Nic’s boyfriend, what’s he doing inviting Nic up to stay with him at his lake house when they’ve barely been apart for a month, telling him that it’s usually full of family and friends but that this week will be perfect because _we’ll have the place all to ourselves_ , quote-unquote, and then accusing Nic of trying to break up with him?

Nic breathes deep, and looks down at his hand, white-knuckling the porch rail.

“I thought maybe you were gonna. You know, like, that maybe you just wanted to. Maybe just keep it, like, buddies, or whatever.”

“Buddies,” Tom deadpans, in that monotone voice Nic hates. “Is that what you want this to be, Dowd? Buddies?”

Nic sighs.

“Look, I’m probably being stupid, okay? I’m jet lagged, and things have seemed weird, like, just super bro-y or whatever since we left DC, and I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I just. I didn’t _know_ , so I was trying, I guess, to just. Like, not get my hopes up or whatever.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tom says, and then he’s across the deck in no time flat, standing right there in front of Nic.

“You still want to be with me?” He asks, straight out, because he’s braver than Nic will ever be, asking the tough questions so all Nic has to do is nod like the fucking coward he is.

“Good,” Tom says, decisive, and his hands land on Nic’s hips, his body pressing Nic against the wooden railing. “You want to be with me, I want to be with you, glad we got that worked out.”

He buries his face in Nic’s neck, and Nic lets out an embarrassingly loud sigh. The relief he feels is so stupid, and so real. He’s such an idiot.

“So okay, obviously we’re not great at this yet, but we’ll get better, right?” Tom says into his neck, breath ghosting hot across Nic’s skin.

“I – I think,” Nic stammers. “I mean, I hope, yeah.”

Tom pulls back and looks at him carefully for a minute, then grins.

“Look,” he says, “not like I think I’m such a big deal or whatever, but this _is_ Canada, and there definitely could be some weirdos out on the lake with, like, telescopic lenses or something, trying to get pics of what the hell ever, so.”

He jerks his head toward the doors, and Nic nods, and follows him inside.

 

+++

 

Tom picks Nic’s bag up off the stairs and carries it into the Master bedroom, deposits it outside the open closet door. He turns on a bedside lamp, then closes the bedroom door even though there’s no one else anywhere around. They stand there looking at each other.

Nic feels like he might burst into flames, for how bad he wants to touch Tom, to feel Tom’s hands on his body.

“The thing is,” Tom says, and he looks a little sheepish. “You did a whole, like, _thing_ for my birthday and I didn’t even know yours was coming up, then I saw the stuff on online right before you got here and I just.”

He shrugs, rolls his eyes.

“It’s stupid or whatever, but I was nervous too, you know? Not knowing how things would go, and then you came all the way up here and it’s your birthday on top of that, and I don’t have anything _for_ you or anything, so. Sorry, about. Just, everything, like. So far.”

Nic approaches slowly, still feeling his way, but the magnetic pull he feels is too much for him to keep resisting in his weakened state. His arms go around Tom, and Tom’s go around him automatically in response. It feels familiar, good. It feels right, like it should be. He breathes out another sigh.

“First of all,” he starts, “your birthday was during the season. Everybody knew; the whole team was talking about it. Not the same.”

He butts his temple up against the hinge of Tom’s jaw, so he’s speaking right into his ear. He can feel Tom relax against him, and that relaxes Nic right back. This feels even more familiar and good and right. Like their bodies are remembering how to do this, even if their brains are being fucking dicks about it.

“And second,” he goes on, “you’re giving me a week-long vacation at the lake, alone with you. That’s a pretty good birthday present.”

“Yeah?” Tom’s voice is low and breathy, and _yes_ , right, this is all feeling more familiar by the second.

“Yeah,” Nic confirms, and slides his lips down the side of Tom’s neck, his hand down Tom’s back to his hip, to pull their bodies closer together.

“Can we just,” Tom breathes, and tugs up on Nic’s t-shirt, “please.”

That’s all it takes, to get them both moving. Nic lets Tom yank his shirt up and off, lets Tom lean in and press their mouths together just for a minute, before he puts some space between them to get the rest of his clothes off. Tom follows suit, at least down to his underwear.

“I might, um,” Tom says breathlessly, after a few minutes of making out on the bed, rubbing against each other like cats. Nic would be embarrassed at how hard he is, if it didn’t feel so good. “I have an idea. For, like. Your birthday.”

Nic stops kissing Tom’s neck and looks at him, suddenly all ears.

As usual, Nic can’t imagine a thing Tom might want to do with him or to him that Nic wouldn’t be on board for, but he’s pretty sure Tom is blushing and that’s. Definitely not usual.

“Hey,” Nic starts, voice soothing, “I told you, you don’t need to - .”

“No -,” Tom cuts him off, shakes his head. “I want to, it’s just. Ah, fuck it.” He rolls his eyes, then rolls away from Nic to reach down over the side of the bed, rooting around until he finds what he wants.

“It’s just, uh,” he blows out a breath, and then holds up his hand.

He’s holding a vibrator – a big one. Like, Magic Wand style - a foot long with the big cushiony head that demure housewives like to pretend is a neck massager. “This is what I. Y’know. _Use_.”

He drops it on the bed between them, and licks his lips. He looks nervous, and the understanding hits Nic all at once. He’s not sure what he had expected, but when Tom said he used a toy, Nic had assumed it would be some kind of, whatever – sleeve, egg, pocket pussy, what have you.

This is. _Unexpected_ , all the way around – both the implement itself and the thing Tom’s offering to do with it. Or, like, let _Nic_ do with it, which, holy shit.

“Oh,” Nic croaks, suddenly feeling flushed all over, “and you want me to -.”

“If you want,” Tom shrugs, looking unsure. His eyes search Nic’s face, and something he sees makes that uncertainty turn the corner, as it so often does with Tom, directly into defensive.

“I mean, before, you said - . Just forget it,” he huffs, reaching out like he’s going to put the toy right back where it came from.

“No, I -,” Nic cuts him off, snatching the vibrator off the bed. “No, definitely, I want to. I mean, but only, like. If you’re okay with it.”

Tom shrugs unsurely again, looking at the ceiling instead of Nic. He chews on his lip.

“It’s, uh. Just kinda embarrassing, I guess,” he says, finally, but Nic’s looking at the vibrator, and it looks like any other vibrator.

“What’s embarrassing about it?”

Tom snorts, closes his eyes and grits his teeth.

“It’s just, who gets off with a fucking vibrator, y’know?”

“Um,” Nic looks at it again. He sees ones just like it in porn all the time. “Lots of people?” He tries, shrugging even though Tom can’t see him.

Tom sighs, deep and pained, and throws an arm over his eyes. It’s one of his go-to defensive positions when things get difficult, and Nic hates it. He puts his hand on Tom’s stomach, trying to establish a connection.

“Women, Dowder, okay?” Tom spits. “Jesus. _Women_ get off with vibrators.”

Nic bites back his instinctive response, keeps his sympathy to himself. He’s learned enough by now, it’s the last thing Tom can stomach when he’s feeling vulnerable.

“I don’t know, Willy,” he tries for light, teasing. “I think you’re gonna have to lay off the weights for a few years before anyone mistakes you for a woman.”

Tom doesn’t respond, and Nic sighs. Then he leans in closer, gets right up against Tom, body to body.

“Here’s the thing, buddy. I know you know better, so I’m not gonna bother explaining to you why that’s a stupid fucking statement. But if you wanna feel like a fucking man, I got something for you.”

He takes Tom’s hand, wraps it around his cock. He ruts against Tom’s palm, until his flagging erection comes back to life.

“You know who makes my dick hard, Tommy? Huh?”

Nic knows he’s being ridiculous – knows by the smirk that Tom’s trying to hide under his arm, by the snort that Tom lets out.

“You know it’s the truth, bud. I wanna use this on you, but only if you want me to, yeah?”

He nudges Tom, then nudges him again, until finally Tom’s eyes open.

Nic tries his best to keep his no-nonsense face on, not to let any softness slip in that will make Tom recoil.

“Willy, you don’t have to _give_ me anything, okay? I promise. Especially if it’s something you’re not comfortable with. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

He waves the vibrator vaguely at his crotch.

“Obviously.”

He holds the toy out toward Tom, an offering. Tom bites his lip, considering, then takes it back from Nic, holds it tentatively in his hand.

“Maybe I could. Y’know. Just, um. Show you?”

Nic just nods, and he knows his mouth is probably hanging open stupidly but _God_.

“Yeah, sure,” he says thickly, trying not to sound thirsty as hell. “If you want, that would be -. I mean, yeah. Hot.”

His stupidity at least gets a grin out of Tom, who takes the opportunity to wriggle out of his boxer briefs. It’s the first look Nic’s had at Tom’s naked body in – far too long, anyway, and he might accidentally stare just a little too much in the way that Tom doesn’t always love.

“Dowder,” Tom barks suddenly, and Nic jerks his eyes up to Tom’s face. “Can you just, like. Up here,” he gestures broadly to his upper body. “Just until I, like. Get going?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Nic nods, slides up against Tom and splays his fingers open over Tom’s chest, teases at his nipple and kisses his collar bone, up under his chin. “Whatever you want,” he pants, and means it, “whatever you need.”

“Just, yeah,” Tom lets out a sigh as Nic tweaks his nipple again, mouthing at his neck, “that’s good.”

“Can I leave a mark?” Nic asks against his skin.

“It’s summer,” Tom pants, and the buzz of the vibrator starts up, a low, constant hum. “We can do whatever we want.”

 

+++

 

Nic concentrates on Tom’s nipples, on leaving a nice big mouth-shaped bruise at the hollow of this throat to admire later, until Tom is squirming and heavy breathing. Nic’s kept his eyes above the waist, followed orders like a good little soldier, but he can feel Tom starting to thrust up against the vibrator, can feel it because Nic’s cock is still hard against Tom’s hip and the little movements are sending tendrils of shocky pleasure rocketing out into Nic’s extremities.

He moves his mouth slowly downward under the auspices of licking Tom’s nipple, but it also gives him an excuse to turn his head, to get a look down Tom’s body at exactly what he’s doing.

Tom’s got his fist wrapped around the thick handle of the vibe, just the way he might hold his cock if was that big. Just the way he holds Nic’s cock when he’s got him propped up in front of the mirror, reaching around to jerk him off.

He’s got the thick cushion of the vibrator’s head pushed up against his cock, rubbing it back and forth, up and down. When he pulls it back a little, teasing himself with barely-there pressure, Nic can see Toms’ dick vibrating wildly under the cushioned head. Then he holds it fully away from his body, and his hips jerk up, pushing his cock against the vibrator.

Tom sucks in a little breath when the head of his cock touches the vibe, and Nic means to be quiet, he really does, but he lets out a groan, can’t help it. He hears Tom’s throaty laugh above him.

“You’re terrible at being sneaky, dude,” Tom says, and Nic’s head pops up.

“You said to wait ‘til you got going,” Nic points out, in his own defense. “But if you don’t want - .”

Tom shuts him up with his hand is on the back of Nic’s head, pushing him away from Tom’s chest, guiding him further down.

“It’s cool, it’s good, I’m good.” He pants. “Go on, get in there. I know you want to.”

Nic doesn’t need to be told twice.

He slides down Tom’s body, until his face is resting against Tom’s hip, until he’s eye level with Tom’s cock, so close he can see the delicately vibrating string of fluid that leaks from the head of Tom’s cock and stretches up to the head of the toy.

He kisses Tom’s hip bone, squirms so his own cock can get some friction against the sheets because Jesus, that’s so hot it’s like, unfair.

He wraps his fingers over Tom’s on the handle of the vibe, lets Tom’s hand guide his for a few seconds, waits to make sure Tom’s the one handing over the reins when he’s ready.

Then Tom takes his hand away, and winds those same fingers into Nic’s hair.

“C’mon, Dowder,” Tom says, like a dare. “Need you to get me off.”

“Yeah, you’re - . Yeah, yeah,” Nic breathes, and sets himself to the task.

Flat on his back, Tom’s cock stands straight up to the ceiling. Nic’s certainly never measured, _most_ certainly would never ask, but his best estimate is that in this position, fully hard, Tom’s working with about two inches. Nic pushes the side of the vibrator’s head against the underside of Tom’s cock, then rolls it in a circle around the circumference. For most guys, the head of the vibrator would only cover a few inches at the base, but for Tom, it runs the full length of his cock, gets him everywhere all at once. Tom moans, squirming and circling his hips, chasing the path of the vibrator.

When Nic lowers the head of the vibe from above so it just touches the tip of Tom’s cock, his dick jerks and vibrates in a way that makes Nic’s fucking mouth water.

When he pushes down harder, direct pressure from above straight down onto the head, Tom’s dick kind of compresses into his abdomen, making him swear and his whole body convulse suddenly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Nic whispers, going back to the light, teasing pressure against the head that makes Tom’s hips thrust up, humping the air, chasing friction.

“Too much?” he asks Tom’s hip, and Tom grunts.

“You can,” Tom pants, fingers kneading at Nic’s scalp, “you can do it again.”

“Like this?” Nic asks, and pushes in again, that direct downward pressure against the head of Tom’s cock that makes his whole body seize up, makes his cock disappear under the head of the vibe.

“Jesus, Jesus, shit,” Tom pants, squirming and thrusting for a few seconds before his fingers tighten in Nic’s hair. “Okay, _okayokayokay_ ,” he says, and Nic pulls the toy back. He leans in to take Tom in his mouth, sucking softly, and Tom lets out a strangled groan.

“Again,” he grunts, and Nic grins, does as he’s told.

It goes on that way, Nic pressing the vibrator into Tom’s cock while he jerks and swears, until it’s too much and Nic replaces the vibe with his mouth for a while. Tom tugs his hair up when he’s ready for more, and Nic goes back to the vibe until it’s too much again.

“You wanna come like this,” Nic asks finally, when Tom is a sweaty, writhing mess, and he’s got the toy pressed down firmly over Tom’s cock. Tom groans and kicks, lets out something close to a yell.

“Or in my mouth,” Nic whispers, taking the vibe away and wrapping his lips around Tom’s cock again.

“I don’t, I don’t - ,” Tom pants, then growls, then laughs, throaty and deep. “Jesus, Dowder,” he tries again, “fuck you, dude. You’re the worst.”

“Best, you mean,” Nic grins into Tom’s hip, and pushes the vibe down again.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuuuuuck,” Tom grunts, and pushes his hips up, leaning into the pressure with his eyes closed, face screwed up like he can barely stand it, until he finally shivers and jerks and jerks and jerks, stomach contracting and knees bent up like he can’t control it. He lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob, then another, then he tugs violently on Nic’s hair.

Nic takes that as his cue, and switches the toy off, both of them panting.

“Is that what it’s like every time you jerk off?” Nic asks, voice a little awed. Like, if that was as good as it looked, Nic’s pretty sure he’d never leave his house.

Tom lets out a long, cackling laugh, wheezing as he tries to catch his breath.

“ _No_ ,” he says, tugging on Nic’s hair again, this time until Nic takes the hint and slides up the bed so they’re face to face again.

“No,” he says again, smiling against Nic’s mouth, “that is not what it’s like every time, Dowder, I’d be dead by now. That was -.” He pulls his head back to look at the ceiling, breathes deep.

“Fuck, that was.” He shakes his head again, then looks at Nic.

His eyes are soft, fond, and then Tom’s kissing him suddenly, loose and wet and relaxed and happy.

Tom never finishes his thought, but it doesn’t really matter. Nic rubs his aching cock against Tom’s warm, damp skin, and shivers as Tom’s hand goes around him.

“Wait, just wait,” he pants, “not like that.” He shoves the handle of the sticky, come-covered toy into Tom’s hand and rolls onto his back, already squirming with anticipation. “I want you to do me.”

Tom grins down at him, the predatory one that makes Nic shiver.

“You want me to use this filthy toy on you, Dowder? All covered in my come?”

His voice is a growl, and it makes Nic whine.

“Yessss,” he says, twitching impatiently when Tom doesn’t move fast enough for his liking, “Hurry up, before my birthday’s over.”

Tom just laughs.

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, and flips the switch on the vibe. The buzz starts up again, heady and insistent. Nic’s eyes flutter closed.

“You already got your birthday present. Getting me off with this thing,” he says, touching it lightly to the head of Nic’s dripping cock, making Nic suck in a breath and twitch, “remember?”

“I re-re- . _Jesus_ ,” Nic stammers, as Tom makes contact with the vibe again, for a little longer this time. “I _remember_.”

“Good,” Tom says, “so you had your fun, now I get to have mine.”

He sits up, cross legged on the bed, ready to get to work. Nic can’t help but notice, just before he’s hit with another wave of pleasure so deep it’s almost _painful_ in its intensity, that Tom didn’t bother putting his underwear back on first.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://makeit-takeit.tumblr.com/), if you're into that kind of thing!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Homing Device](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185235) by [AerPods (Aer)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aer/pseuds/AerPods)




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